El Presidente S01e02 Hdcam __hot__ – Official & Trusted

Back to the present. The tuna sandwich arrives. Jadue doesn’t eat it. Across the table, an FBI agent (the same one from the cold open) pushes a photograph: a man in a suit, leaving a Geneva bank. “Joseph Blatter.” Jadue freezes. The agent leans in. “You’re small fish, Sergio. We don’t want you. We want the shark. Help us, and you walk. Refuse… and we release your ‘contracts’ to La Tercera tomorrow.” Jadue looks at the sandwich. Then at the folder. He takes a bite. Then he speaks. “You want the president? I can get you the president. But you have to understand… he doesn’t take money. He takes souls. ”

Jadue, still the upstart president of the Chilean Football Federation, walks these hallowed halls like a kid in a candy store. He’s ignored by the old guard. Juan Ángel Napout (Paulina Gaitán) – a subtle but powerful figure – watches him from a balcony. She sips mate. Her aide whispers, “The Chilean is asking about television rights.” Napout smirks. “He’s not asking. He’s begging.” el presidente s01e02 hdcam

A montage set to a tense, percussive score. The 2015 Copa América is a success. Fireworks. Goals. Chile wins. Jadue is on the podium, crying real tears, hoisting the trophy. He waves to the crowd. Cut to Jimena watching on a TV in a crowded bar. She’s not celebrating. She’s counting. Her fingers move over her notepad: Three votes bought. Two referees assigned. One final fixed. She writes a name: Jadue. Back to the present

The episode opens not in Chile, but in a dimly lit parking garage in Miami. Sergio Jadue (Andrés Parra), now in FBI custody, is led in handcuffs to a nondescript sedan. An American agent holds an umbrella over his head. Jadue’s face is a mask of terrified arrogance. He whispers to his lawyer, “They promised me a sandwich. Tuna. I want Chilean tuna.” The agent opens the car door. Inside, a folder labeled “Operation Purple Star.” Cut to black. Title card. Across the table, an FBI agent (the same

Jadue meets with a slick Argentine intermediary, (a new character, all leather jacket and cheap cologne). Burzaco slides a piece of paper across a marble table. “The 2015 Copa América. You want Chile to host the final. That’s a $3 million ‘gesture of gratitude.’” Jadue hesitates. His hand trembles. Then he remembers the empty seats at his own federation’s stadium. He picks up a pen.